The Change Is Sick.
My hope is built on nothing less
than His own love and righteousness,
I cannot tell to spoken birds
Parrots would see 'n' ne'er talk thirds.
On weary rock grew solaced bed
like the shred of a spread dread bed
And the new pillow is uncouth,
And Boaz has left his Ruth to-a tooth.
John with howling horn to the soul
is now Judas with honest soul,
Yet minds blow away and heads fall
like say anointing dey the wall.
Not my business yet it's my job,
For I better less round a knob.
And jealous sun with envious moon
is such a bad star in good noon.
It's not my headache yet my aches,
It's not unwell if noth-in wakes.
For, envious moon to sun will jest
When the church perch like birds ' no-nest.
"words from the innocent mind"
Image: Salako O'Pelumi Francis